


In the Name of the Fang

by RadiantxHero



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Black Fang fam deserves more love, Character Death, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Linus swears a lot, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Postpartum Depression, Swearing, first order of business is angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiantxHero/pseuds/RadiantxHero
Summary: A collection of drabbles focused on the Black Fang; some will be canon based, others divergent to canon, with a few AUs tossed in for good measure. I'm literally just going off of a daily word prompt to write these, so there's no guarantee where any one update will go. I just love this weird family, and I want to create some content for them.





	1. Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Starting off with some lovely, canon based death. Prompt of the day was: Write about a breath.

The battle at the Shrine of Seals was long and bitter. While the Black Fang had mostly been decimated at this point, it had been a massive organization with hundreds of members; this last battle between the two forces had brought the remaining loyalists of the Fang out en masse. There were still more than enough left of the shadowy group to make it a challenge for the Lycians to get through in order to reach the shrine.

The Lycians had split up in two directions. A small faction of their man power went east, led by Lord Hector. Their goal was to choke off the reinforcements that were streaming down from the mountain forts in that area. Once they had those forts under control, they were to meet up with the main force at the Shrine of Seals.

The other, larger group went northwest to make a direct assault on the final Four Fang that was holed up in the shrine. Nino had begged both Lord Eliwood and Lady Lyn to allow her to go with the main group, even beseeching the army's tactician to let her join the others heading for the shrine. With the assurance of Legault - and, to a lesser degree, Jaffar - that Nino would be under their protection, the two lords agreed to her request.

While everyone fought their way through the horde of Black Fang, the three defected Fang members slipped between pockets of fighting to get to the shrine. There were only two swordsman guarding the entrance at the top of the stairs, and they were easily dispatched by the two assassins.

That left only one in the shrine itself.

Linus Reed paced like a wild thing caught in a cage, sword at the ready and muscles twitching with anticipation for the fight that had come to him. He hardly seemed to care anything for the men that collapsed at the steps in a steadily growing pool of blood, their throats slit by expert hands and blades. No, his eyes were drawn first to green hair, familiar features facing off with him in a way that was starkly undeniable for anything else but what it was.

**_Betrayal._ **

Wild, ferocious anger swept over his face, upper lip curled in a sharp-toothed snarl. " _No_!" he shouted, an amalgamation of some sort of hurt and an explosive rage as he leveled his blade at the girl he had called sister. "How  _dare_ you side with them! After everything they've done, all the evil they've caused,  ** _everything they have taken from us_** _-_ you choose them over family?"

Nino looked close to tears, the corner of her lip wobbling in an effort to keep up a brave face. Jaffar had instantly stepped in front of the girl at the Mad Dog's reaction, ever the silent protector. Legault lingered off to the side, taking in the situation as coolly as he could.

This only served to agitate Linus further.

Manic eyes snapped to the Angel of Death, Linus slashed his blade in the other man's direction, a burst of light magic sizzling across Jaffar's forearm as he defended himself against the attack. "Jaffar, you traitorous scum! Repent your sins, dog, I'll bring the Fang's justice down on you with all the strength I have!"

Nino cried out in alarm, reaching for her tome hesitantly, but Legault stepped in before she could do anything. If he could prevent sibling from harming sibling here, he would - especially where Nino was involved. Dashing forward, he knocked the younger man's sword to the side, keeping it trapped beneath his own blade and the stone their boots. "Hello...Linus," he greeted with an air of casual conversation, getting closer to Linus than he particularly cared for given his state of mind.

Recognition and surprise flashed for a moment in those brown eyes Legault had known for so long, but it lasted only a moment. That uncontrollable anger surged back from the depths, and Linus used his shield to push the ex-Fang member away, easily overpowering Legault to free his sword. "Legault, you-! You disloyal filth! You, of all people, siding with these bastards?! You, who was by my father's side for so long, from the very beginning?!"

He seemed distracted from going on the assault, at least for the time being.

Legault took several steps back, close enough to speak with Linus, but far enough away to make a quick escape should he get violent again. Linus had always been fast to anger, to lashing out, but even this seemed...amplified. Legault couldn't entirely blame him for how he was acting; the Reed brothers were close, practically a package deal, and he could only imagine what it had been like to find out about Lloyd's death. "Linus, calm down. Your...Lloyd's murder...it wasn't by our hands," Legault tried to reason with the Mad Dog, his speech unceremoniously cut off when Linus took a wild swing at him. The ex-Fang member narrowly side-stepped the blade with a shout.

"Draw your sword, you whimpering coward! Fight me like a man! I promise you this, I will  _not miss again_."

The words held a chilling finality, and the assassin didn't doubt the truth of them.

"I knew this would happen, and yet...here I am. Couldn't leave well enough, not when it came to you Reeds. Sentimentality is for fools...," Legault muttered to himself, and though he knew this had always been the most likely outcome, old memories had encouraged him to try anyways. Memories of the old Fang, the makeshift family of misfits they'd been for so long before Nergal had come into the picture and poisoned everything. The pride and ideals that Brendan lived, breathed,  _fought for_. Watching both of the Reed brothers grow into their own, from boys with training swords to men wielding true weapons. Uhai sharing tales of his native Sacae and his tribe, using fire-cast shadows to aid in his stories as they all tried to keep warm in Bern's winters.

It had all been so strangely wonderful, something good and right that Legault never hoped to have in his life before Brendan offered him a place in the Black Fang.

How quickly had it all been ripped apart and tossed to the winds?

"Brother, please-" Nino was trying to fight out of Jaffar's hold, desperation clear in her voice, her eyes.

Legault let out a resigned sigh, bringing his sword up once more to meet the Mad Dog in battle.

"No!" Nino shouted, pulling away from Jaffar to run up to the two fighters. "Linus, stop, please...Please, listen to me!" She was trying so hard, clutching at the last, broken pieces of her family; holding on to the hope that if she just said the right words, her brother would understand - would join them , and fight the real enemy here.

But, now that she was standing before him, she was  _frightened_  of her brother. He'd never looked at her like this before, eyes crazed and teeth bared in an ugly snarl.

"I will kill  _all_  who aid my brother's killers...Nino, that includes you!" Linus hissed out, launching himself at the young girl.

The blow would have struck its mark, but Jaffar was quick to bodily remove her from Linus' path of attack, and his sword hit nothing but stone. As the silent assassin moved, so did Legault, his blade aimed for the Mad Dog's back. Linus was not taken off guard, though, and pivoted to face the former Fang member; Legault's sword hit Linus' shield, metal biting into wood before it was pulled back swiftly. They danced around each other in exchanging offense, back and forth, metal ringing off the walls of the shrine.

But then, Linus managed to get the upper hand, copying the same tactic Legault himself had used at the beginning of all this. He trapped the other man's weapon beneath his own, Linus roaring as he brought the edge of his shield down on the sword just short of the hilt, snapping the weakened metal in two. Legault swore, slashing up with the jagged remains of his weapon, carving a bloody line over Linus' face. The Mad Dog howled in pain, shield slipping from his grasp as he clutched a hand over the left side of his face, blood streaming from the wound.

This bought Legault enough time to retreat, discarding the now useless hilt of his sword in favor of his dagger.

" _Grah_...Bastard-!" Linus growled out, recovering fast in spite of the injury. Blood coated half of his face, his left eye ruined and blind, blood weeping from it like tears.

Legault couldn't help noting how the wound likened Linus even more to his father.

Linus made to charge forward in assault once more, but Jaffar appeared behind him like a specter, his wicked dagger slicing into the man's leg, severing muscles in order to hamstring the Mad Dog. The last of the Black Fang stumbled in his attack, choking out a harsh noise, something between pain and frustration that his body was starting to fail him. With his balance lost, and Linus now unable to catch himself on a lame leg, Legault took advantage of the opportunity the Angel of Death had given him.

His dagger plunged in expertly, buried in to the hilt with the aid of Linus' own momentum. Legault staggered under the sudden weight as Linus fell into him, a foot shifting back to maintain his footing. He could hear the younger man's sword clatter and skid across the floor, fingers losing their hold on the weapon. He could hear the man's breathing in his ear - wheezing, rasping, layered wetly with blood.

Still, not quite gone yet. Of course not, stubborn boy that he was.

"You...You make sure...she doesn't fuckin' cry...'bout me. Let 'er hate me...got that?" Linus spoke up, voice tired and heavy, words a struggle to force out past bloody lips. "Shouldn't cry...over...over a...lousy ass brother...like me."

Legault's eyes drifted over to Nino, who was awkwardly clinging onto Jaffar's arm, tears already being shed, and merely nodded at the request. It was something he couldn't uphold, nor did he have any intention to try, but what was one lie to a man who was steadily slipping away into death? Legault understood the intent behind it, at least, as misguided as it was.

Linus' weight only seemed to get heavier the longer they stood there, and Legault realized it was because the younger man couldn't even support himself on his one good leg, and was leaning against his support completely to remain upright at all. Legault shifted an arm around him; he could give the Mad Dog this in his final moments, let him stay standing to the last.

"Ha, looks like I've...lost. Just wanted...wanted...," Linus whispered, trailing off as the light in his eyes started to dim. He had enough strength left in him to raise an arm, fingers digging into the material at the back of Legault's cloak like a scared child would do to their mother's skirts for reassurance. Legault narrowed his eyes, willing himself to remain in control of his stoicism. But, he allowed himself this one, last weakness, bringing his hand up to rest at the back of Linus' head, fingers brushing through short hair in an attempt to be comforting in the man's last moments.

A garbled chuckle left the Mad Dog, blood coughing up onto Legault's shoulder. "Feels good...Gotta go now, though, Lloyd's...Lloyd's waitin'...He's waiting, he's wai...waitin' fo' me...Sorry, brother...'m tired, can't...keep up...wait for me, Lloyd...," he breathed out his last, no longer even speaking to Legault as his end came.

The grip on the back of his cloak went limp, and Legault slowly lowered Linus' body to the stone floor.

He'd watched this boy grow up into a young man, full of loyalty and brash ideals. A boy he could still remember roughhousing with his soft spoken brother, a boy that you could hear laughing in the halls no matter where you were in the Black Fang's keep, a boy that had been surprisingly gentle with a little girl that had been introduced to him as sister despite them not sharing any blood. The Reed brothers had been good, noble men, but Nergal's corrupted touch had led even them to their downfall.

Legault removed his dagger from the corpse before Nino could make her way over on shaky legs, Jaffar taking up his place as her shadow once again now that the threat was gone.

"No...No, my brother...My brothers are...," Nino sniffed, falling to her knees beside the bloody tatters of her last family, the sound of footsteps on the stairs marking the arrival of the rest of the army.

The cogs of destiny were cruel indeed, and kept on turning no matter how you wished to alter their mechanisms.


	2. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually not from a prompt, just from my gremlin brain wondering what the Reed brothers' first kills were like. For context, Lloyd is around 17 & Linus is around 14-15.

His father had taught him swordplay as a boy, whenever Brendan had a chance to do so between his mercenary work. It had always been with blunt, scratched up wooden swords. Something harmless in the hands of a child, but still a tool for learning. He remembered it had always made him feel proud, like a noble warrior.

His little brother came along as well, a wild energy added into these sessions that was both invigorating and frustrating to deal with. Lloyd wished to learn, not blindly hit a target. He wanted to understand the movements, the footing, the ebb and flow of a duel, the honor that could be had in a fair fight. Linus wanted the rush, the excitement, the pride that came with coming out on top and forcing another into submission. 

Still, they managed. Their father would teach them something new, and the boys would practice on each other like young animals play-fighting for days until they got the new technique or skill down.

Years went by as such, their life had been simple. Then mother left. And soon, they left. Wooden toys were replaced with real metal, childhood training sessions for the fun of it shifting into drills meant to harden young bodies and minds into the same biting steel they held in their hands. 

_Black Fang_.  _That was their home and family now, wrapped up into one._

He was seventeen when his father first allowed him to accompany him on one of the Black Fang’s important missions. What had started out as just his father and brother had grown quickly into a respectable group, their purpose was to bring justice to those who thought themselves above it – an ideology that Lloyd could understand. He had been a part of smaller operations before now, but this would be his first where he was to command a small group of men himself. 

The men were not pleased to be put under the command of a boy. He did not trust them to follow his lead, but Uhai was his back up, and Lloyd new the Sacaen warrior would not jeopardize the mission just to throw a fit about such a thing.

Brendan’s group were the distraction, drawing the eyes and the weapons of the guards. Lloyd’s group were to sneak in with the confusion, find the nobleman and free any of the women he took as personal slaves for whatever he desired them for. Things went well as far as getting inside, but that was where the line was drawn; the men chaffed at a boy telling them what to do, and fanned out against his orders to locate the noble. Frustrated but not willing to run after them like a child, Lloyd and Uhai made their way to the servants’ quarters. The man they were after was a coward, someone who preyed upon the weak who had no chance to fight back against him; there was no way he would face them head on, and Lloyd had an idea of where he might be hiding.

His hunch had been correct, as the two found the noblemen huddled with the servants, dressed in their clothes in an attempt to blend in. But he was easy to pick out, as his appearance was not in any way haggard like his servants.

The man fussed and cowered, shrieking and yapping like a frightened lapdog. He was using his servants as human shields, an overly ornate knife held in his shaky, sweaty grip as a meager last defense. Sword drawn, Lloyd circled around the man and his handful of hostages, looking for an opening with calculating eyes. The noble was jumpy, his eyes constantly darting from Lloyd to Uhai, who was subtly ushering servants out of the room as they were forced to shuffle closer to him. 

As soon as the nobleman looked away towards where Uhai was removing his makeshift defense one by one, Lloyd struck. 

He moved quickly, slipping between the few women left between himself and his target. He saw the whites of the man’s eyes as his blade ripped through the soft flesh of his throat, blood splattering across stones as the man fell back against the wall with a gurgle. The body fell to the floor, head lolling to the side with a sickening gape of  **red**  at the neck, blood creeping down the front of it like a waterfall.

The job was done, Lloyd and Uhai left to report back to Brendan. 

Lloyd made it halfway back to the Black Fang’s base of operations before he had to pull off from the group and vomit in the woods. It had been a justified kill, but he’d never had another man’s blood on his hands, soaked into his clothes and sticking to the bottoms of his boots before. He would see that man’s frightened eyes in his dreams for years to come, but they would soon be joined by others.

Seeing dead men among the living simply became a part of his life after that day.

Linus, on the other hand, had been chomping at the bit to join his father and brother in battle. He was just as skilled as his brother, and even though he was three years younger, he had the stature of a fighter; a young boy easily mistaken for someone several winters older due to his size alone, the spitting image of his father. But where Brendan was calm and collected in battle, a strong but steady force of nature, Linus was young-hearted recklessness and lust for recognition.

The younger Reed brother jumped at any chance to prove his worth to his father. Where Lloyd had waited, and took more time to perfect his swordsmanship before entering the fray, Linus was all too eager to fight under Brendan’s command. The other men had called him a wet behind the ears pup, but as soon as Linus was on the battlefield for the first time, that name didn’t last. He flew onto the battlefield like a dog loosed from its chain, brushing past friend and foe alike to get to their target – a particularly cruel bandit that had terrorized villages in the southern mountain range for years.

He caught the man by complete surprise despite his blatant and reckless charge, the bandit not expecting what turned out to be a  _boy_  to come for his head with such murderous intent in his eyes.

Their weapons clashed, just barely saving the ruffians’ leader from losing his head to Linus’ attack. But the man had stood his ground at the highest point in the little town that served as their battlefield, snow and frost rendering the cobblestone streets slippery, and the force behind Linus pushed them both over the tipping point. They toppled end over end, grappling with each other, too close to make any proper blows with their weapons.

They crashed into some ramshackle stable, Linus’ sword knocked out of his hand as his back hit the hard ground, the bandit landing atop him. They were both dazed for a moment, before the fight came rushing back to them in the next instant.

The bandit caught Linus by the throat with a hand, powerful grip trying to squeeze the air from him. Linus scrabbled to reach his lost sword, teeth bared in angry defiance of being forced onto his back in the face of such a  **pig**. The man must have lost his ax in the scuffle as well, if he was resorting to nothing but his hands. He was grinning down at the boy, thinking he had won, and Linus didn’t know what pissed him off more in the moment – the fact that he was currently at this filth’s mercy in his first real battle, or the fear that was starting to sink into his gut as he struggled to free himself.

_He was not afraid! He would not die here! He was not afraid of death, and he would laugh in its face as he stared it down!_

Cold metal bit into the tips of his fingers as his hand cast about wildly for his sword, a choked laugh garbling past his lips as his hand curled around the pommel of his sword and he thrust it into the bandit’s side again and again. The man screamed in shock and pain, grip on the boy’s throat releasing as he tried to scramble away. Linus, however, was not letting him turn tail and run; he grabbed the front of the raider’s dirty tunic, flipping their positions so that he was now pinning the bleeding man forcibly onto the ground. 

Oh, the man begged. He begged and pleaded, and whimpered like the coward he truly was. 

_You’re a good boy, eh? You don’t really want to kill me, please, let me go – I’ll change my ways. Be a good lad. Be a good lad, and let me go._

Linus grinned down at him, bruises on his neck, and told him that the Fang’s justice had come for his sins. The only repenting he’d be doing was in death. He watched the man’s eyes go wide, and then he plunged his sword into the man’s chest, down to the very cobblestones beneath them. He stands, and removes his blade from the filth at his feet. He stares at the blood on the steel of his blade for a good moment, curiously running his fingers through the red as he listens to the far off sounds of the others fighting up the hill. 

He smears the blood between the pads of his fingers, running them down his face from forehead to chin, leaving behind a trail of gore as his smile widens.

_What a rush a tangle with death was…_

He came out of that battle with multiple kills under his belt, covered head to toe in his foe’s blood.

 

 


	3. Feasting Crows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit a little lull with the prompt I was working on, so here's a short thing written out of frustration at people. While relatively vague, could be triggering if mentions of gore or rape bother you. Please let me know if any other warnings need to be added. Linus was the muse of the night when I wrote this, as he's a great outlet for the things I don't voice myself.

“You know what I hate about people?”

He wasn’t really speaking to anyone, there was no one to talk to. Not anyone that could talk back, at least. There was nothing but himself, and the dead, here – and the crows,  _oh_ , the crows were everywhere, too. Black and red, black and red, spattered all about the white of the snow that layered the land. It was all monochrome, black on white, with vivid splashes of red and diluted pink. Even the sky was devoid of color; a gray, gray, dull world.

“People are greedy. Always want more than they have. Nothing’s ever enough for them. It’s always gotta be more, gotta have what someone else owns, gotta take from others instead of earnin’ it themselves. People are  _greedy_.”

The crows were having a feast. They knew a slaughter before it even happened. They flocked to the scent of  **threat** , circled when blood mixed with dirt. They tore at cooling flesh, beaks dipping into wounds to swallow down soft innards, like they were a choice treat to be eaten before everything else laid out at this bloody feast. They spoke to each other, garbled voices with no words. Wing beats and talons that shuffled through the snow.

_Greedy_.  _Gluttonous_. They feasted on the demise of others, just like people did.

“Selfish bastards, all of ‘em. It’s so easy to choose the wrong path. Why work hard when you can just slit another man’s throat, take his money and fuck his woman ‘til she wishes she were dead? Why bother trying? It’s much easier to just take. No one wants to bother. Lazy, selfish fuckers,” he spat, twisting his blade into the corpse he was crouched beside, the thick squelch of flesh and blood making way for his anger doing little to actually quell the emotion.

It wasn’t very satisfying to extract punishment from corpses. The dead learn nothing more. People would rather die in their sinning ways than repent their wrongs, and live with the consequences. 

It was disgusting. Why were people so… _ **disappointing**_?

“Look where your sins got you. Was it worth it? Flex your power over those already weaker. Abuse your standing to step all over those that already struggle to crawl at your feet. Coulda reached a hand out to help, but you chose to reach out and  _take_. Take away their few possessions, their dignity, their lives. You pillage, you murder, you rape – but you are called  _noble_ ,  _lord_. There is nothing noble about you. Nothing lordly. You are a pig in fine clothes and jewels, painted to look like something it is not.”

Brown eyes drift to broken features, bone and blood destroying the man’s visage. “I can still smell your sins, you filth. You stink of illness, of the disease that is greed and gluttony and evil. You’re dead, but your sickness and your stench still linger in this world. Your kind don’t deserve redemption. I hope you  _ **burn**_. I hope you burn away into  _ **nothingness**_. Your very memory is a poison, and it should be cleansed from the world entirely.”

He stands, and withdraws his blade. 

There was nothing left here but the filthy scraps of humanity, and it may as well serve the purpose of feeding the beasts before it rots away into the earth’s undiscriminating embrace.

_Let the crows have their feast._


	4. Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me dropping all the other things I was working on for this. It's not in my usual style of writing, but that's just how it came out. I do have something in the works that focuses on Ursula & Lloyd, but Linus likes to barge in & take priority whenever he feels like it. 
> 
> Warning: This touches on homophobia/internalized homophobia, as well as some severe postpartum depression. Some of this might be upsetting, even if it’s not…super graphic, I think? If there’s anything else here I should put as a warning, please tell me.

Father always used to tell me, I came out of the womb screaming and fighting – not even a day old, but a strong warrior of Bern already. Nearly tore my mother apart, but he didn’t talk about that fact as much. When my brother was born, they almost thought he came into the world dead, he was so quiet. We were always different, even from the very beginning.

I was never the  _good_  son. That was always Lloyd.

He was better with a sword. He was better at his studies. He did his chores, and he behaved, and he never got in trouble. It was frustrating to always be in his shadow. Even more frustrating that he never treated me like he was better. He helped me learn fighting techniques that our father got irritated with when I didn’t listen. He stayed up late to read over lessons with me. Picked up my slack with the chores around the house. Took some of the blame for things he never did just so I wouldn’t get my ears boxed for the fifth time that week.

It was frustrating. But…Lloyd wasn’t just my brother; he was brother, father, mother – all rolled into one. He was always there for me, when father was gone or mother wasn’t there. I could push him down and he’d still be there to give me a hug if I needed it.

_“Why don’t they look at me like they look at you?”_

_“Do you look at them the same way you look at me, little brother?”  
_

_“…No, but–”  
_

_“You frustrate them sometimes, Linus, that doesn’t mean they don’t love you just as much as they love me. We’re family. We always will be. Those bonds are strong, and nothing can break the love we share for each other.”  
_

I looked up to father. Emulated him. Wanted to be just like him. I picked up an axe because of him – it was his weapon, and I wanted to be just like him. He was strong, and brave; people respected him for what he did, for his battle prowess and his willingness to fight for people that others might write off. He was a hero comparable to the Eight Generals in my eyes as a boy.

Father was never a warm person, not to us, at least. We’d see it here and there, with mother – or later, with Nino. He wasn’t cruel or unnecessarily harsh. He was tough, but he had his reasons for it. You had to have a thick hide when you were a sell sword. One day, you’d be fighting alongside a friend. The next, you might have to cut them down. It was the job, it was life. Bern was a hard, cold place, and the people that lived there often were as well. You either adapted to it, or you were crushed under its force.

I always wanted to make him proud of me. Wanted to show him I was a strong fighter, just like him. I might not have the smarts or finesse with a sword that Lloyd did, but I was  _strong_. I was a son he could rely on, be proud of, and trust to carry on his ideals.

He was a good father. He was tough, and he didn’t always get me, but he was a  _good father_.

_“It wasn’t a fair fight, though, father! They were beating him! It was a group against one person, you always say–”_

_“I know what I say, Linus! But there are some fights you don’t put yourself into, no matter how unfair it seems! Listen to me…I want you to defend those weaker than yourself, that’s a good trait. But…But you shouldn’t get yourself involved with…with people like **that**. It’s not natural. It’s against the church.”  
_

_“But he wasn’t doing anything wrong–!”  
_

_“A man loving another man is **wrong** , boy, that’s what I’m telling you! It’s not right, and I will not have a son of mine killed in the streets because of it. You’re a fighter, Linus, but you need to learn how to pick your battles better. Do you understand me?”_

_“…I understand, father.”  
_

I used to love my mother, once upon a time. Lloyd never stopped, but they were real close. I was as close as any other son was to his mother, but she’d give me these looks sometimes, like she wanted to hold my head under the bathwater. It wasn’t often, or for very long, but you don’t forget that sort of look in your mother’s eyes when it’s directed at you. 

I wasn’t what one would call… _planned_. I was a drunken surprise, and I don’t think she ever really forgave me for nearly bleeding her out when I was born. Aside from that, I was a little terror and I never grew out of being a bratty kid. I got into everything, made a mess out of every situation, and wore her nerves down to almost nothing from day one.

I guess I can’t blame her for hating me. The feeling’s mutual. She didn’t forgive me for nearly killing her, and I’ll never forgive her for fucking off with a nobleman. 

_“Linus, please, I’m tired.”_

_“But it hurts–”  
_

_“And it wouldn’t hurt if you just stopped getting into fights with the other boys.”  
_

_“I didn’t start it, why don’t you ever believe me! They were callin’ Lloyd names, so–”  
_

_“Your brother can handle himself! He’s a smart boy, and he’s grown up enough to know that throwing a punch won’t solve anything. You’re so much like your father, I can’t–”  
_

_“What’s wrong with that? Mom, what’s– t-that hurts, mom, you’re holdin’ too tight…”  
_

_“…Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with it, baby boy, I’m sorry. Let me look at your arm.”_

I never made friends easy. I was too much to take and came on way too strong, and I’d bite a friendly hand almost as much as a harmful one. You can only do that so much before people stop bothering with you. I’d make friends with kids in town, we’d have a great time – until one of them did something to set me off. Didn’t have to be much, but I’d rip into them like a rabid dog and they’d run off screaming and crying. I could never seem to help it. Never grew out of that either.

Even in the Fang, I never really rubbed people the right way. I made people  _nervous_. Sure, we were all comrades and they trusted me on the battlefield. I was good for a fun time in the taverns, drinking and cracking crude jokes. But that was as far as it really went. Hard to really like a guy that might go off on you in a rage over the stupidest, little thing. 

But, there were a few, here and there. Legault was something else, really. The bastard was as smooth as a snake, and it didn’t matter to him which way you twisted, he could slither on through the mess with a casual smirk. Not that his way of handling things was bad. Hell, I envied him for being able to go with the flow most of the time. He was bold as brass, but he knew when and how to work the subtle charms of humanity.

He was never afraid of being himself. I was jealous of that.

_“…How do you do that?”_

_“Do what? That’s a very broad question, my friend.”  
_

_“That! What you just…I was watchin’ you. You went from her, to her, to him. How do you…How do you do that? It’s not…”  
_

_“What? It’s not **moral**? You’re amusing, Linus, truly. I run on my morals, and no one else’s. Why should I? I am who I am, and other people are who they are. My life is my own. My interests are many and varied, and I have no intentions on limiting myself just because old men and women want to turn their noses up at what I do. If someone doesn’t return my interest, I respect it and move on to someone who might.”  
_

_“…”  
_

_“Oh, don’t look so sour, it doesn’t suit you. You’re not the only one watching, you know. I see you, too. You’re not the shy type, Linus; there’s nothing wrong with going after something or **someone** you really want.”  
_

Nino was the little sibling I never got to have until…well, until I got her. She was perfect. She was never scared of me. You’d never see a stranger pair than us. She was all sweetness, and softness, and sunshine in a fucking bottle. I was teeth and blood, and anger on a tight leash. I was protective of her in a different way than I was with Lloyd. With Lloyd, we had each others’ backs; with Nino, I was standing over her, growling, like a dog protecting its pup. I’d never let her take a hit for me, and I would always put myself between her and a threat.

I saw parts of myself in her. Not the bad stuff. There was hardly a bad thing in that girl. But the good things, the few that I had. I saw a kid that wanted to be seen. I saw a child that didn’t understand why their parent treated them the way they did, but put up with it and tried to earn their love. She wanted to help those in need. She wanted to do good. She wanted to give, and give, and give – even when people just took from her.

We may not have been blood siblings, but she would always be my baby sister. A sister I really didn’t deserve.

_“When will father think I’m ready to fight alongside everyone else, Linus? I want to help…I…I know I still need to get better with my magic, but I’m practicing!”_

_“Ah, it’s got nothin’ to do with your magic, kiddo. You’re already one of our best, if we’re comparin’. But…you’re still a kid, and…I think he wants you to stay a kid for as long as you can, you know?”  
_

_“…I guess, but…”  
_

_“I know, he’s a fuckin’ stickler, right? Y’see where Lloyd gets it, yeah? Such a pain in the ass!”  
_

_“Pfft, Linus!”  
_

_“What? You know I’m right!”  
_

_“But that sounds mean!”  
_

_“Well, I’m mean.”  
_

_“No, you’re not. You’re just…You’re…rough.”  
_

_“…Nah, I’m **mean** , just watch–”  
_

_“No! No, that tickles!”  
_

I criss-cross over the line so much, I can’t even see the damn thing anymore.

I’m angry, and violent, and my love’s about as pleasant as a punch to the nose. But the few people I do love, I’d  ** _die_** for. They might not feel the same way, and I might not say it to them, but they don’t have to do either one way or another. I’m not easy to love, and frankly, I don’t think there’s much of myself that deserves it in return, but I crave it all the same. 

I’m not as noble as my brother. I’m not as reliable as my father. I’m not comfortable with myself like Legault. I’m not as genuine as Nino is. 

But, I figure, the bright side of a coin needs to have that messy side to balance it all out. I’d do anything to make sure they don’t get messed up like I am. I’ll take it all. 

Can’t fuck up a fuck up, right? 


	5. Run For As Long As You Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My pattern is not delivering on anything I say I'm working on, and instead, giving something else entirely. 
> 
> Nothing too bad in this one, just the usual violence. More often than not, when I write Lloyd, he's level-headed and relatively gentle; out of the Reed brothers, I view him as the more aware of his actions and their consequences. As such, I wanted to write something to remind people who know my interpretation of Lloyd, and to just delve more into that side of his character, that Lloyd is still a man fully capable of vicious actions. It was fun to explore, personally!

It was dark, the sun having set below the horizon some hours ago. The night sky was blocked out by dark clouds that promised a downpour; no stars or moon to offer any natural light. Most people wouldn’t be moving through the mountain passes so late, with a storm threatening, but desperate men take risks.

Torchlight bounces off of the rocks and sparse plants along the path they follow, their footsteps sounding off in the semi-darkness with the crunch of gritty soil beneath their boots or the scuffle of loose rock shifting. The group is mostly silent, outside of the occasional reprimand from some to quiet the others when they make a particularly disruptive step or noise as they move. Eyes shifting at every shadow. Constantly looking over their shoulders. Twitchy hands on weapons. 

They act like prey animals being stalked, because they feel the noose tightening. Every breath they take is borrowed, makes the hangman’s rope chafe harsher about their necks. It isn’t simple exertion that makes their lungs constrict. 

It is panic. It is fear.

Their mortality is shining at the backs of their eyes, clawing up their throats and sticking, making them choke as they try to swallow passed the lump lodged there.

Fangs are snapping at their heels, spurred on by the White Wolf.

“We’re not going to make it out of here…”

“We ain’t seen nothin’ but rock and stone out here! Not a sound but what comes out of your gibberin’ mouth! If you keep  ** _quiet_** , we won’t run into any trouble!”

Somewhere in the vast range, the echoes of wyverns shrieking to one another made the group of men come to an unsteady halt. The soft patter of rain soon followed the eerie sound, starting off as a persistent drizzle before growing into a proper storm. Pebbled dirt quickly turned to a sloppy mud. Rain caused their torches to smoke up into the gray sky like a signal.

And to their predator, it was.

One of the men stumbled forward all of a sudden, knees hitting the ground as he scrabbled at his neck for a desperate moment, the shine of wet blood on an arrowhead gleaming dully in the rain dimmed firelight.

The rest of them scattered into the darkness before their companion hit the ground, dead. Prey scrambling in a mad dash away from their hunter.

It would not be enough. Not tonight. Not for them.

Some lost their torches in their panic, roughly struggling through the blanket of torrential nightfall. They risked calling out to one another now, trying to locate some semblance of safety. It did nothing but seal their fates. Screams dampened in the rain soaked paths still carried to those listening for them, and the men that dared to make such desperate noise were quickly silenced by the physical shadows that were their pursuers. 

Five soon dwindle. Four. Three and two.

Now there is only one.

His gasping breaths are the only sound he makes, a small hatchet clutched in his rock-torn hand; blood mixing with rain on his skin. He moves painstakingly slow through a narrow passage, the stone of the mountain creating a rough wall on either side of him, raising above his head in a claustrophobic manner. He knew this path, though, and knew how close he was to escaping to the plains.

Lightning struck overhead, and the man couldn’t help but jolt his gaze skyward. The storm up above was hardly a fear, but the eyes he saw flashing down bloody judgment on him in the moment of light made the pit of his stomach collapse. The darkness that followed the lightning was the deepest he’d ever experienced in his life, and for all of a heartbeat, he thought that his mind had conjured up the dark figure perched on the rocks like a beast of the night waiting to pounce on him.

But the sharp point of metal at his back was like a cold slap of water across his face. The reality of his impending end making him sweat, even in this freezing downpour.

“Please…I– I’ve done nothing!”

The blade pressed harder into his back, just enough to bite into his flesh and draw blood.

“You’re moments away from facing your fate, what you bought with your actions in life, and you have the gall to lie to me?” 

It was a soft sort of voice, not raised or shouting like the man expected, but deadly intent was laced all throughout. There was hardly even a hint of anger. It was serious, firm in its conviction, but that softness only made the voice’s covert edges all the more dangerous and sharp. 

“It’s…It’s not–”

Steel bit lightly into him once more, closer to his spine, just a little deeper than before.

“ _Liar_.”

“Please…!”

He can feel his killer step closer, breath by his ear, his eyes wide and hand shaking so badly he’s dropped his weapon – his one hope of getting away with his life intact. 

“We are the  **Black Fang**.”

He could hardly even register the painful, cold sting of rain hitting his skin now.

“You may have escaped the judgment of others, but your crimes are unforgivable to  _us_.”

He knew all that he had done wrong, but punishment had never flitted through his mind, he’d never been caught for his misdeeds before.

“For all that you have stolen in this life – money, lives,  ** _innocence_** – we shall now extract in full. Your filthy life is all that you hold dear, and so, that is what shall be offered up in repentance to your victims.”

The voice was a dull roar in his ears, rushing in and out with his frantic heartbeat. But, the man heard one word clearly as if it had been spoken directly to his mind.

“ _ **Run**_. Your death will not be so easy as you pray. My hunt will continue, until your sins weigh you down, and you fall to what you have wrought all on your own. Then…my teeth shall rip into you like the living corpse you are; a sickness to be removed from the earth.”

He  _ran_. He ran, and stumbled and crawled until he could move no more. Body battered and bloody. 

“ ** _I am the White Wolf, and this is the Fang’s justice…_** ”


	6. Bitter At The Back Of Your Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so happy mother's day, I guess? This was really short, and I wrote up just now in like...a half hour or so.

“You really are a mama’s boy,” Linus griped, arms folded crossly as he watched Lloyd from his spot in the alleyway. 

Lloyd shot him a look, but he wasn’t denying the accusation, and that was more than enough for Linus to scoff at. Technically, they had nowhere else better to be, but Linus could name at least three other places he’d rather be than right here. Not exactly the alley that bothered him, but the town they were in altogether. 

Most people had fond memories of their childhood homes, but theirs was tainted as far as Linus was concerned. Lloyd was clearly of a different mind.

“I just want to see…that she’s doing alright. It has been…,” Lloyd didn’t finish the sentence, knowing that his brother was fully aware of the years that had passed since they’d even caught a glimpse of their mother. Brendan had taken them and left as boys, after what had happened, and it had been difficult enough to simply speak about her, not to mention trying to visit. And, well, now…it wouldn’t work out to meet face to face. Hard to do something like that when you’re some of the most wanted men in Elibe, let alone Bern.

Linus scowled, digging the toe of his boot between the cobblestones, picking at the dirt packed down there. “Why do you even care? She didn’t care about us.”

Silence was his only reward for pressing down on that sore topic, but he could see the way his brother’s knuckles turned white against the stone of the wall he was peering behind. 

It was one of the only things they truly argued about. They disagreed on plenty of things, but this…this was something they’d fought about, words and fists. 

And then, staring a hole into his brother’s back, Linus could see Lloyd’s posture change. He went from looking like he was skulking around the corner, to that straight-backed stance – at attention, alert. 

He’d seen her.

But that straight back was full of tension, and that was the only thing that spurred Linus to move from his spot. Pushing off the wall, he leaned against Lloyd’s side, a hand pressing into his shoulder as he followed his older brother’s gaze.

There she was. Older, of course, blonde hair streaked with gray and white now, face drawn and aged. 

But, she wasn’t alone. 

She was looking down fondly at a boy, probably nine or ten years of age, like he was the most precious thing in the world to her. She smoothed a hand down over his hair, he looked back up at her like she was a Goddess. 

It was disgusting how Linus could remember how that touch felt. A memory suddenly thrust into the physical. It was almost like being slapped.

Brown eyes shifted over to look at his brother, Lloyd’s expression unreadable beyond the scrutiny of his gaze. But, Linus could hear the gears in his head turning frantically, attempting to process everything. Something flashed in his eyes – pain, anger – Linus couldn’t tell what, but it was there and gone, and Lloyd was pushing them both back into the shadows.

Some wounds get worse with time, especially if you keep them from healing naturally. 

Linus had long since let this particular wound scab over and scar, Lloyd had always picked away at it in the dark. Linus couldn’t care less that the woman they’d once called mother had moved on with her life, but he would never forget the continued hurt she caused his family.


End file.
